sugar  &  spice
by xXNaruMayoiXx
Summary: because in theory, they shouldn't have worked. but they did and they do and they always will.  ikarishipping drabble fic
1. fire & ice

**disclaimer; **My muse is now officially dead. Let us take a moment to remember the muse of NaruMayoi.

Thank you. Naru does not own Pokemon.

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><p>Prompt 1<p>

**2 A.M.**

The bright, neon red numbers on the alarm clock beside her read 2 A.M. She was all too aware of the empty space beside her on the king bed she now lay on, the space that would usually be occupied by his sleeping figure. She lay on her back, staring at the beige ceiling, or at least what she could make out in the darkness. She thought of him, Pokemon by his side and enveloped by nothing but pure, unravaged nature, his ceiling nothing but the vast starry sky. Sighing, she thought back to all the spiteful words she had screamed the day before, and how she would now take them back in a heartbeat if it meant having him back beside her.

-x-

Prompt 2

**Metaphor**

He had always thought metaphors were stupid. They were always too literal, always too unrealistic for a pessimist like himself. As he looked back at her, and how her very being seemed to be the sunlight that brightened the lives of so many, he wondered if he had to reconsider his thinking regarding metaphors.

-x-

Prompt 3

**Sky**

Perhaps he was becoming increasingly more soft, or maybe it was the result of being dragged to one too many chick flicks, but even he had to stop and marvel at how, when framed by the purity that was Mother Nature, her eyes appeared to be the very shade of the sky above them.

-x-

Prompt 4

**Lost Scene**

Her life was a script, written by fate's almighty pen. In Scene 23, she met Paul Shinji, an man who, unknown to her, would come to irrevocably change her life, for better or for worse. In Scene 42, Paul Shinji proposed to her, to which she accepted tearfully. In Scene 58, they began to argue. In Scene 63, the two of them signed the documents that would render them divorced, and it was then that her heart would be irreparably broken, shattered like a hand blown glass vase that was tipped by a careless hand. Scene 60 was where Fate had decided that, perhaps, just perhaps, they may have come to realize their differences. But some drafts were not meant to be finished, and Scene 60 was one of them.

-x-

Prompt 5

**Degrees**

At negative ten degrees, the snowflakes outside danced an intricate waltz, before finally coming to rest on the thick snow that came to blanket the shoots of grass that would come to sprout in the spring. With her in his arms, the two of them sharing a hot chocolate and laughing over past memories, he couldn't remember a time in his life where he had admitted to enjoying the cold as much as he did that day.

-x-

Prompt 6

**Seize the Day**

She had never been one to like surprises all too much, but when he appeared with a picnic basket at her front door with a rare, shy smile on his face, she decided that she could make an exception, if just for one day.

-x-

Prompt 7

**Opposite**

That day, when learning about magnets, he looked away from his professor to glance in her direction with a small smirk on his face, somewhat surprised to find that she was already looking at him, smiling shyly.

-x-

Prompt 8

**Passions Run**

Feeling the remnants of a touch on her leg moments ago, she felt the same primal instincts claw at the pits of her stomach, passions and desires flaring inside her very core as she looked into the face of the man she loved so deeply. She smiled, letting a shallow breath escape her as she found the very same emotions reflected in his deep, stormy grey eyes.

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><p><strong>AN: / **These prompts are from the 64 Prompt Challenge on Livejournal. I'm pretty sure I wrote the 'Degrees' prompt wrong, but oh well.

There'll be eight chapters of eight prompts, and requests every other chapter. So all in all there should be 16 chapters.

Request a very _very _short Ikari fic in your reviews. There will be a maximum of six requests per chapter, depending on how long they are and etc.

This is to revive my muse as well as to work on getting chapters up faster, so expect a chapter up at the very latest every other day. Any requests must be made immediately or they'll be put in the next requests chapter. Thanks~!


	2. light & darkness

**Disclaimer; **Pokemon? Nope, I don't own it.

Prompts 9-16 (:

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><p>Prompt 8<p>

**Connection**

Growling, she smacked the case of the video phone in frustration as the connection failed her once more, the screen with his face on it flickering once or twice. All too late, she remembered she was using a public pay phone, and blushed in embarrassment as Nurse Joy stared at her reproachfully.

Prompt 9

**Lull and Storm**

Their relationship was complicated, like a never ending cycle of hate and passion. In the blink of an eye, tender, heartfelt kisses turned into hateful, demeaning words, and yet, he would never have it any other way.

Prompt 10

**Animal**

When she first brought home that pitiful, scrawny puppy, she imagined she would never hear the end of it. What she _didn't _imagine was him agreeing to care for the canine, a small, poorly concealed smile on his face.

Prompt 11

**Children**

When she first brought up the idea of children, he promptly started stuttering an awkward attempt at an answer, his face an impressive bright salmon. It was so out of character, he had been sentenced to bed rest for fear that he was sick with something.

Prompt 13

**We All Float On**

For someone who had argued against the idea of a "cloud nine" for the majority of his life, she had to be pretty proud of her accomplishments when she heard him mutter, under his breath, "Stupid cloud Nine..."

Prompt 14

**Chess**

After announcing sheepishly that she didn't know how to play chess, he sat down, sighing, as he explained all the chess pieces and how they moved. For further emphasis, he put a hand over hers and directed her pieces to different positions as examples of the consequences of bad moves. After losing royally to him, she absently rubbed her hand, exclaiming, "Chess is pretty fun after all!", with a wink in his direction.

Prompt 15

**Duty**

Even though she knew he had was legally obliged to accept all challenges as a Sinnoh Elite Four, regardless of skill or location, she still wished, almost selfishly, that he could find a job closer to home, if only for her own personal reasons.

Prompt 16

**Rip**

Although his face remained passive, he felt his heart being crushed as she tore up the only remains left of their once beautiful relationship. As her figure faded into the horizon, he tore his gaze away, emotions churning inside him as the wind, mocking him, carried the shreds of paper with them as they blew past the village.

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><p><strong>AN: **

y u no request ? ;_;

Newest batch of prompts. OOCness and gooey, sickening fluff. -nods-

Review please? (:


	3. earth & sky

Thank you for the lovely reviews, reading them always brightens my day (:

And look! Prompts that are more than 2 sentences long!

And I got tired off fluff. THIS IS MORE MY STYLE, BABY.

**disclaimer; **NaruMayoi does not own.

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><p>Prompt 17<p>

**Missing Time**

She sat on the bed, her face buried in her hands. Her azure eyes glanced at the cell phone that lay on the vintage oak night stand. She wished it would ring- she wished that he would at least _call. _

She waited for days. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months.

She forgot about him. She wished she could say that, but she knew it wasn't true. His memory lingered in the back of her mind subconsciously. The littlest thing would remind her of _him. _

She didn't realize that he, just like her, sat at his bedside every night, his cell phone cradled in his head, her phone number on the screen.

She didn't realize that he sat there for minutes, debating whether or not to click that green 'call' button.

She didn't realize that every night, he set aside the phone, vowing to call the next night.

She didn't realize that every night, he mentally cursed himself for being so stupid as to leave her.

Prompt 18

**Crest**

His fingers run over the hand stitched crest of the shirt she had made him. It was a simple white polo with rolled up sleeves. It was made during her 'sewing phase', and on the back, she had stitched a small 'DB+PS' on the back.

He tore his eyes away, throwing the shirt aside.

It was still too soon.

Prompt 19

**Itch**

"It itches." Dawn had growled in frustration. Paul looked up in faint curiosity.

"What?" he repeated. Dawn pointed to the curve in her back.

"It itches." she complained childishly.

"So..?" Paul mumbled, the faintest trace of a blush on his tanned cheeks.

"Scratch it." the blunette insisted.

It was then, in his flustered state, that Paul discovered that he _really _couldn't lie.

Ever since then, "my back itches" became a terrifying phrase for Paul.

Prompt 20

**Explode**

Sometimes, Dawn remarked that Paul was eerily similar to a dormant volcano. He was generally very placid and calm, but when he did get angry, he was frightening. Five years later, Paul rarely showed flashes of his former frustrated self.

Unless you mentioned the "scratch my back" incident.

Prompt 21

**Rise**

He knew she was terrified of heights. Paul was aware that he was an asshole, and decided, that on their second anniversary, he would take her skiing, because he was a sadist like that.

He smirked as she clung closer to him as she let out a muffled scream of fear into his jacket. The man slung an arm around her trembling shoulders as the ski lift rose higher, secretly savouring the feeling of her body against his.

And they called him stupid for taking her skiing...

Prompt 22

**Crumble**

Game days were on Wednesday afternoons. One day, Dawn had suggested playing Jenga.

She failed to remember that she was utterly hopeless regarding her clumsiness.

She spent three hours screaming at the stacking blocks for not "staying up", while Paul sat by her side with a slightly exasperated expression on his face.

Dawn never did suggest playing Jenga again.

Prompt 23

**Range**

There were a wide range of faces Dawn made.

Paul noticed that immediately.

She was the type that exaggerated her facial expressions, if only to look 'cuter' in a sense.

While he may not have appreciated the idea that Dawn was trying, if only subconsciously, to appear cute, he did have to admit that it did sort of work.

It amused him to see her stick out her tongue as she worked at something or to see her puff out her cheeks in anger.

But then again, to him, a wide range of faces only meant more than four different facial expressions.

Prompt 24

**Fight or Flight**

It was a fight or flight situation for her.

His words stung, like pinpricks against stick.

She swallowed the growing lump in her throat as hot tears threatened to fall at the corners of her closed eyes.

Her fingers curled into a tight skin, her knuckles turning white as she tore her gaze from the ground to stare furiously at him.

"Well... you know what?" she whispered hoarsely. His arms fell to his side. "I fucking _hate _you."

His face didn't change.

She turned around, forcing herself to run away from the man that had caused so many painful memories.

Her feet pounded against the soft earth.

Her chest rising up and down from sprinting so far, she leaned against the tree she had seeked refuge from, letting out a wretched sob from inside her throat as she buried her face in her arms.

She felt a touch on her shoulder.

She flinched. It was him.

"... I'm sorry."

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><p><strong>AN: / **

Leave your lovely reviews right by this umbrella right here.

I'm happy. Canucks won their game, Canada won against the Czech Republic in the World Juniors, watched War Horse and sobbed like a sentimental fool, and trolled Chapters at the mall. Good day.

I love War Horse. One of these days, I shall do a fanart.

Maybe.

Requests? Any? ;_;


	4. A Sort Of Ball Drop

**disclaimer; **I don't own Pokemon. Now shut up and let me weep about it. ;_;

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><p><strong>Request One<strong>

"A Sort-Of Ball Drop on New Year's Eve"

-x-

Watching the ball drop at Amity Square in Hearthome was a tradition in the Berlitz household.

Dawn grew up watching the ball drop every year at midnight- it was just one of those traditions that you never grew out of, at least not for her.

-x-

"Why are we watching this?" Paul grumbled, clearly not wanting to be planted in front of a television at five minutes to minute.

"_I'm _watching this because I've always done it since I was four." Dawn answered. She nudged Paul affectionately with her shoulder. "_You're _watching this because you're super nice and love me enough to watch the ball drop with me, right?"

"Teh." Paul grumbled, muttering incoherent curses under his breath.

"Shush, shush, the broadcast's starting!" Dawn suddenly slapped Paul on the shoulder to get his attention, pointing to the screen of the LED television.

"Look at all the people! I'd love to be there on New Year's Eve." Dawn exclaimed, a beaming smile on her face. Paul had to admit, when she was being childish like she was right now, she could be pretty damn cute. She winked in Paul's direction. "I hear kissing someone when the ball drops is good luck."

"Don't be stupid. It's only a superstition." Paul rolled his eyes.

Dawn looked like she was about to say something, but she tore her eyes away to grin brightly at the TV.

"I'd hit you, but the countdown's starting!"

"You're stupid. This is stupid. Why am I still here?"

"Shut up, Paul."

-x-

"20!"

"19!

"18!"

"17!"

"16!"

"15!"

"14!"

"13!"

"12!"

"11!"

"1-"

_Crackle._

-x-

"Paul. Make. The. TV. Turn. On."

"Troublesome, I can't decide to make the TV feed work." Paul said bluntly. The blunette growled angrily, flopping back onto the couch.

"This is going to be the first year not watching the ball drop. Fucking satellite feed." Dawn mumbled, punching a cushion angrily.

"Well, you can still do the countdown." Paul pointed out, gesturing to the clock on the wall.

"Hey, you're right!" Dawn grinned, clapping her hands enthusiastically.

"5!"

"4!"

"3!"

"2!"

"HAPPY NEW YEA-"

"THUD!"

"PIPLUUUUP!"

-x-

"What was that?" Dawn demanded breathlessly, standing up.

"It sounded like a Pokeball. Maybe Piplup knocked down a Pokeball or something."

"Oh, oh... okay. Hey, it was kind of like a ball drop!" Dawn grinned. The mauve haired man shrugged, smirking.

"I guess. So maybe you didn't miss it after all." Paul smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist.

The two sat there for a while, enjoying each other's company.

Paul sat up with a jolt.

"Wait, where did that sound come from?" he questioned.

"Uh, the living room, why?" Dawn answered, yawning.

"Fuck. That Pokeball was Tyranitar's." Paul winced.

_TYRANITAAAAR!_

_ CRASH!_

_ PIPLUUUUUUUUP! _

_-_x-

"Damn, I think that was my good china."

"... Happy New Years, Dawn."

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><p><strong>AN: **

Happy New Years Eve, everyone! (:

A New Years Eve fic as requested by xRissychanx. Thanks for your lovely reviews, everyone \(owo)/

Ugh, I'm in denial over the fact that there's only a few days of break left. Nope. It can't be true. Nope. ;_;

As always, review, and don't have too much fun partying! (;


	5. salt & pepper

**disclaimer; **I don't own Pokemon. I'm dying from the Canada / Russia game right now. Intense.

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><p>Prompt 25<p>

**Acid**

"Hey, Paul, I have a project on acid rain. Explain please?" Dawn questioned, holding out a textbook while giving her boyfriend a vintage eyelash flutter.

The mauve haired teenager sat down beside her, sighing, as he started to explain more in depth about acid rain.

Dawn smirked as she felt him next to her, occasionally listening to his words in that exasperated tone of his.

Arceus, for someone smart, he sure was gullible.

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><p>Prompt 26<p>

**Colour**

"What's your favourite colour?" Dawn questioned.

Paul spared her a glance before looking back at the math textbook he had been reading.

"... hunter green. Yours?" Paul answered, deciding to humour her. He expected her to say pink or baby blue- given her nature, it'd be his natural assumption.

"I like pale yellow! It's not super bright and tacky like other yellows but it's pretty and bubbly too!" she grinned, obviously aware of what Paul had expected her to say.

Paul winced. He'd never been fond of yellow- it was too bright and cheerful, too bubbly for his tastes. Then again, maybe that was why he thought it was so fitting for Dawn. He was one that liked subtle, more masculine colours- hunter green or maroon, for instance.

The teenager shrugged.

Arceus, even their colour tastes were opposites.

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><p>Prompt 27<p>

**Give**

"It's such a nice feeling, knowing you've helped someone!" Dawn chirped, grinning from ear to ear as she filled another large bowl with meat and potato stew, handing it to a middle aged man dressed in a thick, grimy North Face jacket.

"I guess." Paul shrugged, wordlessly handing a bowl of soup to a frazzled looking young woman.

"Cheer up, Paul. You're giving back to the community!" Dawn scolded teasingly. When she looked up after filling another bowl, she could of sworn she saw Paul smile just the slightest as he handed a bowl of stew to a young mother and child, the child beaming back at him with a toothy grin.

The big softie.

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><p>Prompt 28<p>

**Needle**

Paul had no idea that Dawn was so afraid of needles.

It was him that apologized profusely to the stunned doctor after Dawn had accidentally kicked the doctor in the 'crown jewels' in one of her many ensuing panic attacks, before fleeing from the office with her arms flailing as she screamed her head off.

The teenager rubbed a temple.

"Sorry again, doctor."

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><p>Prompt 29<p>

**Locks**

After her friends had decided to pull a Leaf on her, she found herself locked inside a janitor's closet with Paul.

Forty minutes of tension and _absolutely no making out of any kind_ ensued, to Leaf's (and our) dismay.

That day, she cursed the existence of locks.

When she finally saw daylight once more, she cursed the hell out of the person behind the door.

After Paul had uttered a "Troublesome, look who you're swearing at", she looked up before blushing furiously as she found herself face to face with the frightened janitor of the school.

She always did hate broom closets after that day.

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><p>Prompt 30<p>

**Slope**

They grew up as next door neighbours, and he saw her often as he looked out his window. They weren't friends, per say. Not really. They were on decent terms and said the occasional greeting once in a while, but they weren't friends.

In the summer, he'd skateboard down the slope their houses sat on, while she sat by, reading or drawing, once or twice glancing at him shyly.

Only when she was fourteen did she ask him to teach her to skateboard.

The next summer, they skateboarded down the slope together, not as friends, but as a couple.

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><p>Prompt 31<p>

**Correspondence**

When he was deployed, he was miserable. He had a duty to fulfil, but he led his life like a robot- eat, listen to orders, sleep, repeat. He lived in fear twenty four seven.

When the man brought his troops the mail every other week, that was the only bright spot in his days.

With an ink pen from his grandfather and ratty parchment, he wrote letters to her.

Letters. Just letters. Saying how he was doing, asking if Piplup had finally stopped being a brat, platonic things like that. Writing a romantic letter just wasn't his style.

Now, reflecting on his experiences, he thought that, maybe, the letters were the only thing keeping him alive in those bleak, doubtful days.

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><p>Prompt 32<p>

**Linger**

She blinked away the tears, forcing herself to tear her gaze away from the newly erected tombstone.

It had _his _name on it.

He _couldn't _be dead.

He... he promised. He promised... that he'd always be there for her.

He couldn't be dead.

How could he...?

The wind whispered through the branches, carrying an unspoken message.

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><p><strong>AN: **1 MINUTE LEFT.

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT ?

I'M DED. DED RIGHT NOW.


	6. black & white

/insert generic blubbering apologetic reason for late update.

**I don't own Pokemon.**

* * *

><p>Prompt 33<p>

**Charm**

Paul was in a fairy costume.

Paul was not pleased.

Dawn had insisted that it wasn't a fairy costume- it was a leprechaun, she had argued.

Leprechaun, fairy. Same thing.

Only one flew and the other was green and skipped around protecting a cauldron of gold.

Although, he pointed out, maybe Dawn's rather _revealing _outfit was worth the humiliation...

What..?

He was a teenage guy, okay!

Prompt 34

**Roads**

Her mother had always said life was a large, metaphorical road.

She had to admit it made sense, unlike most metaphors she had heard.

Dawn thought about Kenny, how she had spent so long of her 'life road' walking by his side, before running into a fork.

After much thought, she had turned left, opposite of the road Kenny had chosen. Kenny was no longer in her life. She strolled through the dirt roads of life for a few years, grateful to have met so many people that would become so dear to her in that period, including but not limited to Ash, Gary, Nando, Misty, Leaf, and May.

Along the way, she stumbled and met Paul.

She almost thought of going the other way, leaving him behind. She almost did, quite a few times, actually.

But Dawn gave him a chance, and he proved himself.

She hoped he'd walk beside her in the road of life until she finally reached the end.

Prompt 35

**Hunger**

The first time he had an actual conversation with her, it was because she was hungry.

She hadn't outright _said _she was hungry, but he knew she was.

He knew that she was starving herself- to keep up with the image she wanted, the image she had been pressured into believing was the ideal in society.

Thin legs, flat stomach. Big boobs.

He saw- how she threw away her food, staring at it briefly before whipping around in the other direction.

He heard her stomach growling- softly, barely there. He saw how she blushed, looking away.

When he offered her an apple, refusing to accept a 'no' as an answer, she broke down.

He never saw her so vulnerable before.

It opened his eyes.

Prompt 36

**Reciprocity**

It was a mutual feeling of acceptance.

That was the only real feeling Dawn could clearly remember.

It was during the Lily of the Valley conference- when she had accidentally overheard the conversation between Paul and Reggie.

After he had admitted to his reasons for his dislike towards Ash, she had found him.

He was by the Veilstone Mall's PokeMart, buying a stock of Great Balls.

She tapped his shoulder.

"Um...hey."

"...hn. Troublesome." he'd said curtly.

"I just wanted... to, uh... I guess... congratulate you for the Conference." she stammered, blushing.

"I was beaten. What's there to say?" he said darkly.

"It was a close match!"

"I still lost. There's no changing that." he shot back.

Dawn stayed silent for a while.

"I just wanted to say... uh... I know how you feel." she blushed deeply.

"...what?" she could tell she had surprised him. It was evident in his expression.

"I... guess I know how you feel. About always trying to do something someone you looked up to never could."

"... what do you mean?" Paul questioned, genuinely curious.

"My mom. She... um... she gave up coordinating too. I wanted to make her proud. I was so upset when I couldn't show her I was good too. As good as her, maybe." Dawn had started to clench her fists.

Paul only stared at her, before smirking slightly.

"...you're good, Troublesome. Not great, but good. There's always room for improvement, no matter who you are."

He didn't say anything else.

Coming from anyone else, the words might have stung. But it was Paul.

She had to admit, though, he was right in some respects.

She'd just have to try harder, and she'd win. All her hard work would pay off- that's what her mom had told her ever since her first contest.

"Hey, Troublesome." Paul interrupted her train of thought with an amused expression on his face.

"What?" she grumbled irritably.

"You might want to stop pumping your fist into the air. You're getting some odd looks."

Prompt 37

**Kind**

Paul was never really a kind person.

Not in the way most people would think, anyway.

He didn't smile a lot, rarely complimented people, and only occasionally did a good deed out of the goodness in his heart.

What most people thought was kind, Paul thought was sappy.

He had his own way of showing kindness. Not being rude or overly judgemental, for once.

He wasn't perfect. He had his faults. He would never be the perfect, sweet, romantic boyfriend she had dreamed of as a kid, but she'd take him over a generic Prince Charming any day.

Prompt 38

**Fruity**

"You smell nice." Dawn noted, smiling slightly as she took in the smell of him.

"What?" Paul raised an eyebrow, a small smirk on his face.

Yeah. He'd admit it. He put on some cologne.

There wasn't any reason, really. He just wanted to do something a little bit special for her.

Maybe she'd say he smelled mysterious. Or musky.

He didn't really know.

He would admit, however, that he wouldn't have expected her next words.

"... you smell fruity. Like Garnier shampoo."

Prompt 39

**Half Life**

She lay on the bed of the hospital, her eyes closed and her breathing soft and shallow.

Her hands lost its grip, slackening its hold on the light blue hospital sheets.

Her heart monitor beeped, like a metronome that Death itself held.

She could hear faint murmurs. At first, she thought they were angels, greeting her warmly by the golden gates of Heaven.

The world was still black to her, but soon, memories sped through her, like a choppy movie that had been coated with acid- some parts blurry, others clear as daylight.

She could remember Paul, driving in his beaten and battered Honda down Old Hay's Lane. She could remember the semi that burst through the hills, the wheels clacking ominously and the driver hunched over in his seat. She could remember the flames that licked at her skin, causing her to scream in agony as the pain seared through her. She could remember him... trying to save her. Trying to protect her with his own body.

She could remember how his arm went limp around her.

_She's clinging on. But barely._

_ Not like him. Poor child. Died instantly._

He... was gone.

The strength in her ebbed away.

The darkness greeted her, like an old acquaintance. She welcomed it.

This time, she was sure she could hear his voice.

Prompt 40

**Comedy of Errors**

The first time she tried to talk to him, she ended up falling on her face and chipping a tooth.

The first time she tried to kiss him, she ended up tripping and colliding with his nose.

The first time she tried to dance with him, she ended up twisting her ankle.

That time she said yes to his marriage proposal, she ended up jumping too high and hit her head on a tree branch.

The first time she tried to feed her son, she accidentally burned his tongue.

Later on, Paul learned never to expect too much out of his wife, and to never expect a day where everything went as planned.

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><p><strong>AN: **Aye, crappy chapter.

I'm sorry. I've been running off seven hours of sleep and junk food for the past two weeks. I am hockey deprived and have absolutely no inspiration.

ugh.

All's Fair will be updated the following week. 1000 words and counting so far.

Requests will be next chapter.


	7. Reunions and Regrets

**disclaimer ; **I don't own Pokemon ~!

* * *

><p><em> t i m e heals all wounds ... or so they s a y _

Request #2

_Reunion_

She was 28, rich, and beautiful.

He was 29, handsome, and wanted.

-x-

She waltzed in like the princess she was, azure eyes sweeping the room.

He strolled in casually, his hands tucked into his pockets and his hair shaggy as ever.

-x-

She had her arm around her husband, her gaze distant.

He had a hand on his wife's waist, his eyes hard.

-x-

She flinched when she saw him, her perfectly painted nails digging into her husband's skin.

His jaw tightened when he saw her, as he looked away and faked indifference.

-x-

She blinked away the tears, trying to keep the smile on her face.

He clenched his fist, his face betraying none of the conflicts taking place in his mind.

-x-

She looked at the lavish ring adorning her finger, torn between her heart's desire or staying true to a loveless marriage.

He reminded himself that he had a wife, and that the weight in his chest was nothing more than result of last night's drinking.

-x-

Maybe, once upon a time, they could have been something beautiful.

But life isn't always like a fairytale.

For Dawn Berlitz and Paul Shinji, their happily ever after never came.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **

I have a confession to make.

I'm falling out of Ikarishipping. I'll try my hardest to try to muster up some inspiration, but I just feel so _dead _right now. I'll try to read more fics, but life's just been crazy.

I honestly thought about deleting this fic. But I didn't feel that it was a good reason to, and it'd probably offend and confuse the readers for this. So I've decided to keep this going, but I'm ditching the prompts. Updates will be sparse, so it`s your choice if you want to continue reading it our not.

I'm sorry if this seems all so sudden and rude, but writing was supposed to be _fun. _A way of expressing myself. Now it feels like an obligation, and I don't like it. I won't delete _any _of my stories, but updates won`t be quick at all. I have a life to deal with as well, and my grades are going to be even more important.

That having been said, my province`s teachers are on strike, so I`ll have a bunch of days where the teachers are having a walkout, and spring break`s soon, so the whole thing might not even come into effect until after spring break.

Thanks for being understanding and amazing and sticking with me through sparse updates and listless chapters! I love you all 3

~ NaruMayoi


	8. winter, cold, and ensuing warmth

**disclaimer; **I don't own Pokemon (:

* * *

><p>Request #3<p>

_Winter, Cold, and ensuing Warmth_

"It's snowing outside, Troublesome. What are you doing wearing _that_?" Paul demanded harshly, waving a hand in her general direction.

Dawn furrowed her brows, looking down at her outfit. She had on a tan aviator's jacket over a lacy, floral tank top and white high waisted shorts over black tights with polka dots. She'd stepped into a random pair of shoes, rather regretting her rash, split second decision to leave the house wearing a pair of heeled suede desert boots.

"What's wrong with it? It looks cute~!" Dawn chirped, pulling down her Hello Glameow beanie over her ears to warm them.

Paul rolled his eyes, scoffing, but a slight pink tinged his cheeks.

"You're going to freeze to death, Dawn." he said bluntly, pulling on a leather jacket over his long-sleeved henley. "If you're cold, that's your own problem."

"Always the considerate boyfriend, aren't you?" the blunette huffed indignantly, crossing arms over her chest. "And besides, you've never said anything before!"

"That was when it wasn't snowing and negative eight degrees celsius out there." Paul answered in annoyance. "Now, if you're just going to argue with me, then we can leave, and if you're cold, it's your own problem."

"Alright!" Dawn responded, punching her boyfriend on the arm affectionately. "I'll show you I can wear this without getting cold!"

The mauve haired teenager only rolled his eyes.

"Girls..."

-x-

"It's weird to see Veilstone snowing for once. Not, you know... raining." Dawn remarked, playing with the fringe of the scarf she'd thrown on at the last minute.

"Veilstone. City of rain, mud, and muckiness." Paul agreed, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the "Welcome to Veilstone, Sinnoh!" sign.

"Mhm." Dawn hummed, pulling her jacket around her tighter as another frigid gust of wind met her bare skin. Subconsciously, she shivered.

Paul stared at her, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"I told you that it'd be too cold, Troublesome." Paul growled.

"I-I'm not cold!" Dawn retorted, before contradicting herself as she sneezed.

Paul only raised his eyebrow. The blunette blushed, looking away.

"There was dust in my nose." she said stubbornly. She grinned, winking coyly. "Besides, how do you know it wasn't just some clever plan to get you to do something unbelievably uncharacteristic and hug me or something to warm me up?"

Paul scoffed, a smirk on his face.

"Fat chance, want romantic, watch _The Notebook._" Paul rolled his eyes.

Dawn giggled, tackling him into a hug, despite his protests.

"Well, it was worth a try~!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I think I've lost my writing touch. I don't like it anymore, it's all icky and I just gave up on this. My future posts on this fic might be a bit outlandish, but things are going on and I need to channel it into my writing, and I think my lack of inspiration for Ikarishipping and utter tiredness is showing in my writing.**  
><strong>

geh, I'm sorry for uber late update.


	9. even the worst storm's gotta end

**disclaimer; **I don't own Pokemon, or Scream and Stormy, which belong to the lovely perfect people called Hedley.

* * *

><p>petty reassurances<p>

-x-

_will you scream, when you're alone_

_even the beautiful lose control_

_will you scream, when you're alone?_

-x-

Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.

It's almost amusing how naive we were back then.

How we brushed off insults screamed over rusting playground slides and went on with our day like nothing was ever wrong.

But nothing in life is ever as perfect as it seems at first glance.

Because words do hurt.

They cut into you like knives, drawing blood with each word uttered behind our turned backs.

I hear them.

They call me a slut, a whore, a hoe who'll open her legs for any guy with money. They call me fat, ugly, and trashy. And they call me a bitch- an unlikeable, ugly, materalistic bitch.

Because the ones who're closest to you are often the ones who have the most spiteful words to say.

Every day it got harder to put a smile on my face, walk into the school, and act like nothing was ever wrong.

Every day, something inside me clicked.

_No, you're ugly. Don't eat this._

_ No, you can't eat this, you're fat enough._

It began small, like skipping a cookie after school or deciding to go for a jog just after dinner. It turned into meals barely touched and hours spent hunched over the toilet seat, gagging as I tried to rid myself of the acid that burned in my throat.

The curves I had gave way to skin barely stretched over overly protruding ribs, the yellowy tinge on my teeth becoming all too obvious.

My mom tried to help. She really did. But those words kept echoing in my head.

_Fat. Ugly. Whore._

The cold of the toilet bowl became a source of comfort.

-x-

_"You're beautiful."_

"No. You're just saying that." I mumble, ducking my head.

He gives me a look- the kind of look that suggests I'm being ridiculous.

"Listen, you know, I don't say nice things all that often. So if I say you're beautiful, goddamn believe it, alright, Troublesome?" he rolls his eyes, his words cutting but strangely comforting.

"Thanks." I say tartly, but a blush creeps up on my cheeks nonetheless. I bury my face in the crook of his shoulder as he slings an arm around me.

He furrows his brows as his index finger runs over one of the ribs that still protrude from my torso.

I've worked on my 'issue'. But I doubt it'll ever go away.

Silently, he takes out an apple. A Fuji apple, because he knows it's my favourite kind of apple, even though I don't think I've ever said it outright to him.

The apple's smooth, the skin unblemished. I turn it around in my hand for a while, taking in a deep breath.

He raises his eyebrow, and I bite it. The apple's sweet with a sour undertone, with all the crunchiness of a Fuji apple. He crosses his arms, his arm around my shoulders as I take another tentative bite.

"It's not going to murder you, Troublesome." he says sarcastically, and I punch him, a small grin on my face.

And so I finish the apple, and when I do, there's a smile on his face that seems contagious, because he just seems so much more _radiant _when he's smiling.

"Don't ever do that again, alright?" he says, more of a demand then a question.

"I know... but their words... just...-" I stutter, but he cuts me off.

"Listen. They're all jerks. Don't listen to a word they say, and don't give a shit about what they think. Because you know what, you're perfect, the way you are. And when you're twenty-five, successful, and they're working for you as a janitor or something, you can laugh at them and reminisce about how long ago, they called you ugly." he says, his words sharp.

It's utterly ridiculous, because it's so obvious he's not used to comforting people, but I appreciate the effort. I grin crookedly, mentally picturing me as their bosses and ordering them to get me a bagel or something.

No mayo, of course.

"That sounds good." I say, smiling.

He smirks at me, because of course, in his eyes, everything he says is pure gold. He's probably imagining himself as a therapist, because that's just how the smug asshole thinks.

"Thanks." I whisper.

His words instilled a kind of confidence in me. Just a small bit, like a flower bud before it blossomed.

He turns around, digging into his Roots backpack for something.

I raise my eyebrows as he pulls out a yellow flower and hands it to me.

"It's a daffodil." he says simply at my questioning look, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

My expression must still have been blank, because he sighs and places the daffodil behind my ear, tucking a strand of my bangs behind my ear and letting the petals tickle the skin near my ear.

"Daffodils are a symbol of hope, Troublesome. Look up your flowers." he smirks.

He gets up and leaves, throwing his backpack over his shoulder and disappearing into the throng of students as the bell rings.

I take off the daffodil, and there note drops onto the cement bench.

Pulling my knees to my chin, I lean against the brick wall and unfold the note.

There's a weak ray of sunlight that meets the skin of my arm, even though the sky's full of dark stormclouds. There's a patch of clouds where it's lighter than before. I smile. The sun's fighting to break through the stormclouds.

If it can, maybe I can too.

So I read the words he's written, put a smile on my face, and walk into the hallway.

I don't have to pretend anymore.

Because everything really is okay now.

-x-

_It's stormy now, so baby let me in, I can help, I know I can._

_ Together we're never gonna fall,_

_ It's stormy now, but the sun's gonna shine again_

_ Even the worst storm's gotta end._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Paul was so OOC it's not even funny, but I needed to get this off my chest._  
><em>

I've been listening to Stormy, Scream, and Brave New World by Hedley on repeat these past few weeks, because I've been struggling with self esteem and everybody calling me flabby and things like that. So I wanted to channel all my feelings into writing, because a, that's the point of writing, and b, I didn't want to go all Asian bitch mode and attack someone and end up in juvie or something. So yeah.

Check out those three songs, they're amazing.


	10. a ghost of a smile

_****_disclaimer; I don't own Pokemon :D

* * *

><p><em>a ghost of a smile<em>

Because she's tired.

Tired of pretending, tired of smiling, tired of _life._

She's broken, broken and screaming for help, but her cries go unnoticed.

And she's breaking down, teetering precariously over the point of no return, and nobody even notices.

* * *

><p>He's lost everything he has to live for, he sees the shadows behind the light, sees the darkness behind the flashy sunset.<p>

He can see behind her fake smiles and overly peppy laughs, read the girl who's so broken and so beautiful.

He doesn't bring it up, not ever, because she needs to fight the demons in her head by herself.

* * *

><p>The days are darker, more repetitive, and the people all the same.<p>

She thought they could change- she gave them second chances, third chances, fourth.

Their words cut into her, like knives, and nobody can hear how watery her laugh is, how close she is to finally giving in to all the voices.

She sees a note pinned to her locker. It's a stupid, muted purple sticky note, and she just wants to rip it apart, because its sure to contain nothing but more jeering insults, more digs at her, more words that scream at her- _whore, bitch, slut._

She throws it away.

* * *

><p>She's fading away, and the lights become brighter and more painful, the song of birds singing like nails on a chalkboard.<p>

He watches, wanting to be her anchor, but this ship's sailing straight towards an iceberg, and he doesn't know how to stop it.

* * *

><p>Is it better to just let it all end?<p>

She wonders sometimes, and she's standing there, rocking on the balls of her feet.

It'd be so easy. To just fall, to have everyone forget her, to become truly invisible.

She wants to just let go, to fall into oblivion and into the eternal darkness. She can imagine her mother waking to find her bed empty, and she wonders if her mother'll cry when the police tell her they aren't sure it's her, because she's just a broken, mangled mess, just like she was in life.

But he pulls her back, and his hand's so warm and her fingers fit perfectly in between the spaces, but _why won't he just let her __**die?**_

She's crying, crying, and he runs his hand over her hair.

"Why didn't you just let me fall?" she hiccoughs, her eyes red and puffy and she's probably so unattractive. He's probably just here because he's taking pity on her. He probably wants nothing more than to just leave her, because he's a asshole like that.

"Because your pain's going to end eventually, but not like this." his words are so wise, speaking so much truth, and she feels a knot in her throat, and she can see the sunlight peeking through the clouds again.

* * *

><p>She smiles again, and she laughs, and her eyes have that special light in them again.<p>

He's still him, of course, and his face is stoic and hard, but she can elicit a smile or a gruff laugh out of him occasionally, and those are what she lives for.

She lives for the sunsets, the summer nights spent in the cool ocean surf, the white snowflakes that dance from the clouds.

She lives for the spring, the wind tousling for her hair, for the times where she laughs so hard she can't breathe and there are tears in her eyes.

But most of all, she lives for him, because he's the reason there aren't any more tears behind her smile.

* * *

><p><strong>AN; **

Jeebus, I'm depressing. HAHA, I'll have some fluffier chapters up soon.

I've been obsessed with _Titanic _and maritime disasters in general, and I've been writing Titanic drabbles like crazy. But the **_confirmed!_ **Dawn reappearance in BW2 reignited that Ikarishipping spark in me. I highly doubt that there'll be ep184 type Ikarishipping, but hopefully the producers'll throw us a bone her.

/sigh blissfully

xxNaruMayoixx out (:


	11. smile!

**disclaimer; **I don't own Pokemon. [:

* * *

><p><em>Smile!<em>

"Why don't you smile?"

Paul has a lot of answers for her.

She's too bubbly, too optimistic, too oblivious to the reality of the world, because she's too entrenched in her unrealistic, picture perfect fairytales. She thinks of marriages that last, kisses tinged with fiery passion, thinks of life as but another adventure to be had.

She doesn't know that how that passion dulls, how love fades, how life's just another cruel hand that sometimes reminds you who's really in control of your fate.

She doesn't understand life like he has, because he's looked death in the eye and all she's done is smudge her manicure.

"Because there's nothing worth smiling about."

-x-

Maybe he lied, because when he's around her he can feel the sun on his skin and her smile is contagious, because he wonders what her lips would taste like and makes a remark to himself about how her body fits perfectly with his.

Life's not perfect, and it never will be, but suddenly he has a new outlook on life and it's all thanks to a peppy blunette who refuses to be told no.

She's as close to perfect as a person can be and he's the bad boy, and he amuses himself with the idea of him dating her, which in itself is a laughable thought. So he settles for 'just friends' and hopes she can see what's right in front of her.

But maybe he's being too harsh on himself, because she's sitting there wondering what it'd take to get him to notice her, and they're stuck in between, not friends but not more, and neither of them know what to do.

-x-

"You look better when you smile, you know?" Dawn giggles, her deep azure eyes lingering on his lips, which are curved upwards.

"Huh," he grunts, leaning back onto his palms as he observes Dawn. Her eyes are bright, her smile broad, and the wind's blowing back her hair so it flutters behind her.

Paul can't help but think she looks like an angel.

"What, does Mister Heart of Ice have something to smile about now?" Dawn teases, poking him in the side with a finger.

Paul smirks, bringing her closer and kissing the side of her head.

"Sure. I have you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **

****Sorry, life's been hectic, with middle school grad and summer withdrawal and a new relationship (aah!) so yees, writing's been the least of my worries, sorry Dx

I've been a bad writer, ugh.

Why is the Ikarishipping category so deaaad? aah, no more Shinhika love anymore D':


	12. february air

__I don't own Pokemon. (:

* * *

><p><em>inspired by; <em>

_februrary air ; lights_

"What are you doing here?"

His voice is calm, but she can see the pain in his eyes.

"I could ask the same for you," she answers frostily, taking a sip from white porcelain mug. The steaming mocha meets her lips, and the liquid burns down her throat as she swallows.

"It's a coffee shop. Why can't I be here?" he says coolly, and both of them wince.

It isn't _just _a coffee shop.

It's _their _coffee shop.

The Grind- a small, quirky cafe found on the corner of Vermillion and Oak, with an unoriginal name but mochas to die for.

They'd met here, kissed here, he'd asked her to go out with her here. The Grind was the setting for many a fond memory, but now that they were over (_over, over... why did it sound so final?), _neither of them frequented the cafe anymore. Not as much as they used to, anyway.

Dawn forces herself to drink another sip of the searing coffee, but it goes down bland and tasteless.

She wants to ignore the man in front of her, but she can feel his gaze lingering on her, and there's a warm fluttering in her stomach that has absolutely nothing to do with the coffee.

It's strangely comforting to be back at the Grind, where she and Paul had basically lived in their senior year at Hearthome Secondary. They'd been on a first-name basis with the owners, a kind, elderly couple named Janet and Robert, and they had gone on to become good friends with Marina, the barista that worked Mondays to Fridays.

She knows the entire 40 square feet of the shop inside out- from the pale yellow chair and table sets pushed against the wall to the cushy red sofa that sat in front of the flickering fireplace. She had memorized the menu from ordering so many times, all twenty seven of the coffees and brews scrawled in chalk on the blackboards hanging up on the walls, bright smiley faces adorning the corners of the blackboards.

If she didn't know better, Dawn would almost think she was back in senior year, doing homework on the sofa of the Grind with her fingers laced through Paul's, sipping Americanos and Sevii vanilla lattes. Back in senior year, she could read Paul like an open book- she could decipher the look in his eyes, the subtle changes in body language that spoke the words he didn't.

But she wasn't back in senior year.

She was 21, in college, and unhappily single.

She _couldn't _read Paul Shinji, the man who'd changed so little but become so different.

Dawn stood up suddenly, leaving her mug of coffee on the table. Paul looked at her with a raised eyebrow, sipping his Americano slowly.

"I-I'll be leaving," she stammered, grabbing her umbrella and messenger back.

She paused, looking at the rain that pounded against the clear windows.

"It's cold outside. It's February, Troublesome. How do you not wear a jacket?"

There he goes again. Troublesome.

That little pet name (he had always called it a nickname, she thought wistfully) that he'd made up back in junior year, the day she'd transferred to Hearthome Secondary.

"It was warm when I came out," she said defensively, crossing her arms in front of her.

Paul sighed, standing up and shrugging off the light Adidas windbreaker he had on.

"Just take this. We don't need Queen Berlitz catching a cold," he said bluntly, tossing it in her direction.

Dawn only stared at the jacket in her arms, a smile playing on her lips.

Maybe he hadn't changed as much as she thought.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So yees.

I'll probably be doing a few drabbles based on songs on my iPod.

I liked the idea of expanding on a prompt I liked, which was the slope prompt with the skateboarding, but I know _nil _about skateboarding and decided not to make a fool out of myself.

The good news? I've been getting back into Pokemon.

YAAY.

Review? (:


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